All of My Heart
by Dragonfly-Moonlight
Summary: AU, hints of slash. Full summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

recommended music: The First Cut is the Deepest by Sheryl Crow

Summary: Behind every silver lining, there are shades of grey. Behind every closed door is a secret. Behind empty eyes is the past that one man doesn't wish to remember. Speed's life has taken a drastic turn. Things have happened. Painful things. Things he does not want to remember. Things he will be forced to remember before too much longer.

* * *

Darkness had come. With it had been a piercing chill then a suffocating numbness. How long ago it had been, he couldn't say. He just knew that it had come. With it had been a blow of some kind, again something he couldn't remember. He only knew that it had been terrible, especially if he hadn't wanted to remember it. What had happened? Why had the darkness consumed him? How long had he been in this place, this numbing dark place? Did it even matter to him anymore? 

'Guess not,' he reasoned. 'If it did, I'd probably be more inclined to fight.'

Fight. The will to survive. They had fled him. He knew it. The strange thing was he no longer cared anymore. Everything changed. Fighting it had only cost him. What it had cost him, he could no longer say. He couldn't feel much anymore. He just knew. He knew that his arms were held close to his body, almost in a hug, with some strange fabric, his jacket, and he knew when _they_ came to him, bringing him things like food and medicine and . . . treatments.

Like now. He knew that food was coming. Food and people. It didn't matter if they treated him like some caged animal. He'd come to expect it from them, the physical pain of it long since disappeared. His . . . treatments were the only things that he felt anymore, the only indication that he still lived. The door to his room clanged open and a few people entered.

"Good morning, Mr. Racer!" a female voice chirped. "Time for your breakfast!"

The female – he could tell by her footsteps – strode over to the window and pulled open the blinds. He winced in the bright light of morning and turned his head away from the window. It was all he could do anymore. They had already seen to it that he stayed in bed until they released him.

"You have quite a busy day ahead of you!" she announced, somehow making it a production of spoon-feeding him his pills, which he took without complaint, and some flat tasting eggs and juice. "We're going to get you all nice and clean! Maybe even find some _nice_ clothes to wear. Your wife, Trixie, is coming for a visit today!"

The name sounded familiar but he could no longer put a face to it. But he knew that he didn't like her. Not anymore. She smothered him and he knew he didn't like to be smothered. However, something inside of him stirred, something he couldn't identify.

'Wife? When did this person become my wife? If she's my wife, why am I here, tied to this bed? When did she become my wife? Do I want her as my wife? No . . . she can't be my wife . . . I'd remember something important like that. I don't have a wife.'

"I don't have a wife." His voice sounded faint, almost alien in his ears. Was that the first time he had spoken? It seemed like he had always known how to speak.

A metal utensil hitting a tray greeted his ears. He didn't even bother to lift his head to see what had happened. He knew. The nurse had dropped a piece of silverware -- possibly the spoon since that was all she ever used -- and now probably gawked at him.

"Get him ready," she managed to croak out. "You know what to do."

Immediately, the girl fled the room and it became dark once again. One of the orderlies had closed the blinds while the other climbed onto the bed with him. It didn't surprise him when this happened. They always did this once the nurse was gone. She rarely checked back in right away.

"Well, that was new," the one orderly commented. "Wonder if she'll give us some time?"

"I'm sure she will," the other stated. He just lay there, listening and his eyes staring at the ceiling. He knew their names – Harry and Geoff, he was sure – but it always took more effort to remember than it did to not remember. "The doctor won't be in for a few more hours anyway. Takes him that long just to get here!"

To that, the orderlies chuckled and he felt the other one climb in on the other side of his bed. One grabbed between his legs and massaged while the other smoothed back his hair and kissed his cheek.

"You've been an awfully good boy lately, Speed. Would you like for us to untie your jacket this time?"

"Yes," he murmured listlessly. He knew what they wanted. What they always wanted. What he always gave them simply because it reminded that he was, indeed, alive and not wandering in some dark dream.

"Do you promise to be a good boy and to listen?"

"Yes. I promise to be good. I promise to listen."

He felt the jacket slacken as they both untied their respective ends. In a matter of seconds, it was off and he'd been situated into a kneeling position next to the bed, his hands resting on the side. His clothes were in a heap next to him but he didn't care. If that's what they wanted, that's what he'd give them.

Behind him was the orderly that had been on his right -- Geoff, possibly. It had become hard to tell them apart -- and in front of him was the other. They had stripped halfway at the very least.

"Here we go, Speedy," Harry smiled. "And remember, Geoff . . . no biting this time." The orderly gave a short, curt nod of his head, his signal for the other to begin. Speed let out a soft hiss as a burning sensation and pain erupted in his backside.

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"Are you sure that's what he said?"

The nurse nodded her head, wringing her hands slightly. Before her stood Trixie Racer, her husband, Rex, and a blonde-haired female wearing a doctor's lab coat.

"I'm sure, Mrs. Racer," she replied. "I told him that you were coming to visit and he said he didn't have a wife. Did you mention to him that you two were no longer married?"

"No," the brunette shook her head. "Never did. Always hoped that he'd come out of it so I could. Anyway, I'd like to see him. Is he ready for us?"

"He should be, Mrs. Racer. Would you like Dr. Johnson to meet you in the recreational room?"

"Yes," the woman stated, her eyes narrowed slightly. "That would be . . . delightful."

"Very well, ma'am," the nurse replied, repressing a shudder at the young woman's tone. Since her now ex-husband had been admitted six years ago, Trixie Vanderbucks-Racer had become their worst nightmare. She always asked how come he didn't respond to her, how come he had a glazed look in his eyes, why he was on so many medications -- a grand total of six -- and never seemed satisfied with their explanations. The woman never had liked Dr. Johnson, and it had become a well-known fact. Each year she tried to get a new psychiatrist for the troubled young man but each year it failed. Most of the psychiatrists immediately consulted with Dr. Johnson and felt it prudent to leave Speed Racer in his care and in this facility. The blonde that followed Mrs. Racer and her husband down the hall was probably another that they hoped would give them what they wanted.

'She just doesn't get it,' the nurse thought mournfully as she got ready for the afternoon med pass. 'Speed doesn't _want_ to remember what happened. It's just too painful for him.'

With a sigh, the nurse went about her routine.

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Trixie walked down the hall, her gaze straight ahead. Six years. Six _years_ of her life had been spent trying to repair her former beau's fragile state of mind.

'Six years of visiting this hell-hole,' she scowled. 'Speed doesn't belong here. He belongs at home. With his family. I can't believe I let Dr. Johnson talk me into having him committed. And now the bastard doesn't want to release him. Says it's too dangerous, especially for Speed. What the hell does he know? No one will attack him. We've already arranged for that!'

"Now I will have access to his files?" the woman behind her asked.

"Yes," Trixie nodded. "Especially since you'll be taking over for Dr. Johnson."

"Providing he doesn't sweet-talk you, like he has everyone else," Rex added. The woman snorted.

"Don't worry. I may be just starting out but I have Speed's best interests at heart," she vowed. "Don't worry. I'll do what's best for him and not what Dr. Johnson _wants_ me to do."

"That's very reassuring."

They entered the recreational room, which was emptier than what it normally was. Dr. Johnson sat at a far table, a young man with dark hair and unusually large, pale blue eyes sitting across from him. A straightjacket had been wrapped around the man and, Trixie was quite sure, tied in back. Behind the young man stood two male orderlies. They kept telling her he was violent but every time she saw him, he merely stared, as if he were a zombie.

'And that is going to change.'

Dr. Johnson, a man with rusty brown hair and a moustache, lifted his head when he heard their approach. He didn't even bother to smile at them but he did acknowledge them with a slight nod. Then he turned his attention back to his patient.

"Speed," he whispered, taking one of the man's hands into his. "Speed . . . Trixie and Rex are here to see you. You remember Trixie and Rex, don't you?"

To that, Speed stared straight ahead. With dismay, Trixie noted that he never shook his head, never spoke, and never recognized their names. He simply . . . stared.

"Dr. Johnson, we'd like to talk with you," she stated firmly. "In private, if you please."

He sighed but nodded. She knew he wouldn't be happy with what they were going to tell him but she didn't care. It was time that someone else took over Speed's treatment. When they were far enough from the man in question, Trixie got straight to the point.

"Dr. Johnson, my husband and I are not very happy with the way Speed's therapy and treatment have been going. There should have been some results by now."

"Mrs. Racer," he began, "we've been through this before. We have tried _everything_ we could think of to bring Speed out of this depression he's in. _Nothing_ has worked. I don't know what else to tell you. Believe it or not, there is only so much that I can do to help him. The rest is up to Speed as to whether or not he wants to fight this."

"You know, at one point, I would have believed you," Trixie stated. "But not anymore. I quite honestly believe that you _want_ Speed in here for the rest of his life."

"You . . . what?"

"You heard me," she snarled quietly. "I believe you want him here, that's why you're doing nothing to help him."

"You think I want an otherwise healthy twenty-four-year old man _living_ here? Are you insane, girl?"

"No. I'm not," Trixie stated coolly. "Your time as Speed's doctor is up. Meet Stacey Joyce, Speed's _new_ psychiatrist."

He glanced at the woman behind them and sighed. "Mrs. Racer, changing Speed's psychiatrist is _not_ going to change a thing."

"And that's where you'd be wrong, Dr. Johnson," came Dr. Joyce's reply. "I believe a change in doctor is just what he needs."

"A female doctor? Mrs. Racer, you're making a mistake. You know very well that Speed panics whenever there's a strange female around him."

"Our decision is final," Rex finally chimed in. "Transfer all of Speed's files to Dr. Joyce. Today."

"Very well, Mr. Racer. Mrs. Racer."

Scowling lightly, the older man left the room. Trixie felt her heart leap out of elation. If things went well, Speed would be home with her and Rex by the end of the week.

'He's so quiet,' she thought as she finally returned her gaze to the man who once had held her heart and still did, in some ways. 'He can't be that hard to take care of.'


	2. Chapter 2

Recommended music: The First Cut is the Deepest, Sheryl Crow.

* * *

"Here you go, Dr. Joyce," Ron Johnson stated, handing over a huge stack of folders that happened Gregory Racer's files to the petite blonde. He knew that he simply couldn't hand over his patient's files without putting up some sort of a fight, especially since Speed had made it very clear to him six years ago, and every year after that, that he wanted _him_ to be his psychiatrist.

'I really need to talk to his parents again about them obtaining guardianship over their son,' he told himself. 'I know they like Trixie, always have and always will, but she's getting a little out of hand with her demands. It isn't healthy for her and it definitely isn't healthy for Speed.'

"Is this everything, Dr. Johnson?"

"Everything," he nodded. "Including a detailed history of the events that led to his depression, the treatments we have done, the treatments that we have suggested, what we've been _allowed_ to do, and how we know exactly what it is that Speed wants."

"And how do you find that out?" she retorted, glaring at him. To that, Ron shrugged as he turned to walk out his office door.

"Easy. We slowly take him off his medications, allow his system to clear itself out then put him under hypnosis after about two weeks time. At that time, we ask him what is that he wants when it comes to his treating psychiatrist and the options we have available for treating his depression and what we're allowed to do."

"If you use hypnosis on him to find that out, couldn't you just use it to cure his depression?"

"I'd love to, Dr. Joyce," he smiled, rubbing his palms against his jacket. His nicotine fit had started to kick in. "Mr. and Mrs. Racer, however . . . the ones who have hired you, won't allow us to use hypnosis to treat the problem at hand."

"And what _is_ the problem at hand, Dr. Johnson?"

"He was raped, Dr. Joyce," he answered, pulling his cigarettes and his lighter out of his pocket. "A group of his fans got a hold of him one night, a group of _female_ fans. There was at least a dozen of them . . . Anyway, they proceeded to touch and fondle him, much against his will. He ended up pinned somehow with each girl taking turns 'riding on top of him.' Speed really had no way to escape them. I became his psychiatrist then, trying to help him cope with what had happened to him. Things, however, got worse for him from there."

"How so?"

"Read his files, Dr. Joyce. It's all there. Everything he told me six years ago to the present. Now if you'll excuse me, my cigarettes are calling my name."

"Dr. Johnson, wait . . . If you've truly done everything you could for him then why doesn't he remember any of what happened to him?" Dr. Joyce asked, holding the files close to her. "Mr. and Mrs. Racer have told me that, every time they've come to visit him, he just stared passively at everyone and everything. He recognizes nothing."

"Because he doesn't _want_ to remember, Dr. Joyce. If he did, he wouldn't be here now. That is the one thing I can guarantee you."

Before she could ask him anything more, he left his office and headed for the employee's smoking lounge. The craving simply wouldn't leave him alone.

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Stacey Joyce glared at the retreating form of Dr. Johnson before shaking her head and leaving his office. There was something he wasn't telling her about her new patient. It was vital, what he wasn't telling her. She could feel it.

'But he did say that everything was in Speed's files,' she reasoned. 'Guess I have some reading to do.' Stacey weighed the folders in her arms as she walked to the conference room that housed her. 'A _lot_ of reading to do.'

The facility had afforded her a small office space when Trixie and Rex Racer had announced that she'd be taking over as Speed's primary psychiatrist. Though they had accepted her with open arms, they were not been willing, however, to release him, even to the psych ward at the hospital. At least, not until she had reviewed Speed's case and understood the implications of him being released from their care, they had told her. Stacey thought it ridiculous, figuring them to be money-hungry idiots.

'Guess it can't be helped,' she sighed, shoving the door open with her foot. 'They know more about his condition than what I do at this point.'

She set the files down on the table then rummaged through them to find the oldest. Once she'd located it, Stacey grabbed herself a cup of coffee and a toaster pastry before sitting down to read.

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Gentle hands brushed against his face, moving his hair and causing him to blink. He didn't know who it was but he wished that it would stop. The person, a woman with brown hair, flashed in his line of vision, her smiling visage blocking his view of the wall.

"Don't worry, Speed," she kept saying. "We'll have you out of here in no time. You'll come home and you can have a normal life. Like you once did. You don't have to worry about Dr. Johnson anymore. Dr. Joyce will help you. I know she will."

Her hand continued to roam from cheek to cheek. She kept smiling at him. Something inside of him sparked. A distant memory. Something terrible, tragic. He didn't want this woman, or any other woman, touching him.

"Don't . . . do that," he murmured. Sea-green eyes blinked at him.

"Don't do what, Speed?"

"Don't . . . touch me . . . I don't want to be touched. Go . . . away . . ."

"Mrs. Racer . . . I believe your husband, you and I need to have a talk," a feminine voice stated, a hard edge to her tone. "And please refrain from touching him. If you'll follow me . . ."

They moved away, their footsteps and their voices growing faint. Still, he felt her hands brushing against his cheeks, heard her words . . . Dr. Johnson . . . the name . . . it was familiar. He vaguely recalled telling a dark-haired man in a white jacket that he wanted him to be his doctor . . . but he couldn't remember why. His heart began to ache. Tears formed in his eyes and he started to rock gently. For the first time in a while, he felt something inside of him. He felt . . . fear.

"Don't touch me," he whispered. "Don't touch me. Don't touch me. Don't touch me. Don't touch me."


	3. Chapter 3

Recommended Music: The First Cut is the Deepest by Sheryl Crow

* * *

As soon as the door to the conference room had clicked shut, Stacey Joyce whirled around to glare at the couple who had hired. 

"How could you?" she hissed. "Did you think I wasn't going to find out?" Both Trixie and Rex blinked.

"How could we what?" Trixie inquired. "Dr. Joyce, what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Speed's case!" she exploded. "How could you keep vital information like that from me!"

"What vital information?" Rex demanded. "We've told you everything . . ."

"Not everything," Stacey seethed. "You didn't tell me that he had been raped by twenty girls." Her glare focused on Trixie. "You didn't tell me that you insisted that Speed marry you to prove his love for you after what happened to him. You never told me _any_ of that!"

"It wasn't important!" Trixie shot back.

"Wasn't important?" the psychiatrist echoed. "Wasn't important! How the hell do you expect me to do what's best for him if you're not going to be up front with me about _why_ he's here!"

"We told you why he's here," Rex stated, his tone soft yet dangerous. "Dr. Johnson . . ."

"Has done exactly everything he has been _allowed_ to do," Stacey growled. "I've read his files. I've listened to his tapes. He has done everything that _Speed_ has wanted him to!"

"Oh, how would he know . . ."

"Don't start with me, Mrs. Racer. You know very well that Dr. Johnson puts Speed under hypnosis once every six months. You've sat in on the sessions." At their steely glares, she sighed and shook her head. "Look, I know you want to help him and that's why you've sought me out. But I would have liked it if you'd been more up front with me about why Speed has been in this state to begin with."

"But it really has nothing to do with why he's here," Trixie protested, crossing her arms obstinately.

"Actually, Mrs. Racer, it does," Stacey murmured sadly. "He's never had a chance to heal from it. He hasn't coped and refuses to cope. It's eaten away at him and has caused him to become violent, unstable. He wants to forget and, right now, the only for him _to_ forget is to be heavily medicated."

The three of them stood in silence for the longest time, Stacey gauging their expressions. Now that she'd gotten everything out in the open, they had to make some decisions. Some very important decisions. A young man's life could be restored or destroyed, depending upon what his brother and his sister-in-law decided. Finally, Trixie let out a soft sigh.

"So what do you intend to do, Dr. Joyce?" she murmured. "Can you help him?"

"I can help him as far as he lets me and as you allow me," Stacey affirmed. "But mind you, if things start clearing for him and he's in his right mind once more, he has every right to seek out a psychiatrist he's more comfortable with, even if it means he goes back to Dr. Johnson."

"You don't think he'll be comfortable with you?" Rex questioned.

"No," the doctor shook her head. "He's made it known repeatedly he does not want a female psychiatrist supervising his care. Quite honestly, I'm already going against his wishes by doing this. I could lose my license over this."

"No, you won't," Trixie stated. "We . . ."

"Are not his guardians. At least, not legally," she informed them. "Speed admitted himself here of his own free will and has never signed over guardianship to anyone. If anyone were to have a say about who his psychiatrist is, it would be his parents. Not you."

"But we were married," the brunette protested with a slight frown.

"And it was annulled. I know. Everything's in his history, Mrs. Racer. I just want you to know what the consequences could be once everything's all said and done. What _you_ don't understand is that Dr. Johnson has been humouring. He could have easily called your in-laws and let them know what's been happening. In fact, I'm surprised that he hasn't."

"So you will take over his care?"

"Yes," Stacey nodded. "I will. For the moment."

"Thank you," Trixie breathed. "Thank you very much. So . . . what kind of a treatment are you going to prescribe for him?"

"The only one that hasn't been done, Mrs. Racer. I'm going to suppress his memories of the rape and of his marriage to you."

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An hour later, Trixie stepped out of the conference room, her husband right behind her. She kept her arms wrapped around her, feeling slightly chilled. And it wasn't because of the building's air conditioning.

"Are you going to be all right?" Rex inquired quietly, as they headed for the main entrance.

"Yeah," she nodded. "I just hadn't expected everything to come out like that."

"I know. Neither did I. We should have told her everything when we approached her. But what's done is done," he murmured, wrapping an arm around her lithe shoulders. "We did hire her to ply her trade and do what's best for Speed."

"Yeah," she sighed. "She's thorough. I have to give her that."

"That she is. And she's good. She's opened our eyes about what it is that _we've _been doing wrong all these years. We'll just have to convince Speed to lay the blame on us for having her become his therapist. That way she doesn't lose her license."

"Mm-hmmm," Trixie nodded absently as her mind raced with questions and possibilities. She'd do whatever it would take to correct the mistake she'd made six years ago, though she wouldn't leave her husband for her former beau. The knowledge of what she'd done had poisoned her love for the dark-haired man who had captured her heart. She just hoped that, with Speed losing his memory of those events, that he'd be able to act like he'd forgiven her.

'Who knows? Maybe Dr. Joyce is right. Maybe having those memories suppressed is just what he needs. I just hope no one tries to ruin it by bringing it up.'


	4. Chapter 4

Author's note: Recommended music for this chapter is _Bring Me to Life_ by Evanescence.

* * *

"Stop it."

Thud.

"Stop it."

Thud.

"Stop it."

Thud.

Stacey Joyce stepped lightly into the room, her eyes falling on her patient. The orderlies had him in a straight jacket, tied to his bed, but he was sitting up. His medications were slowly starting to wear off, she could tell. She'd seen a drastic change in him since they had started to wean him off his medications. He'd become more agitated, more violent, and they'd had to isolate him from other patients. She gave him a quick glance over, to see how he'd been faring.

According to the nurses and the orderlies, he would spit his food out, most of the time in their faces. And he wouldn't sleep, either. He'd scream long into the night, howling as if pained. Looking at him, she could believe it. His face had become pinched, as if he'd started to starve himself, and his eyes had dark circles under them.

'I really should learn how to listen to my peers,' she grumbled to herself as she approached the disturbed young man.

"Mr. Racer?" she ventured, keeping her eyes on him. "Mr. Racer?"

At first, he paid no attention to her, just kept hitting his head against the wall and chanting, "Stop it." Still, she didn't want to approach him without him seeing her. The orderlies had informed her that, if she did, Speed got even more violent than what he would if he could see her getting close to him.

"Mr. Racer," Stacey tried again. He glanced at her, his blue eyes bright and feral. A rumbling noise emanated from him and he bared his teeth at her. But that wasn't what had stopped her so completely in her tracks. It was the anger and the frustration, the hurt and resentment that she saw reflecting in his eyes. Being weaned off of his meds allowed him to remember.

'He's growling at me,' she thought numbly, frozen in one spot. 'He's actually _growling_ at me. Dr. Johnson was right. He does not like females at all. Why did I even agree to this?'

"Calm down, Speed," a male voice stated. "She's just assisting me with your treatments. That's all."

His eyes turned to the other person who had spoken, who she knew to be Dr. Ron Johnson, but Speed continued to growl. All of his rational thoughts seemed to have evaporated. Stacey felt herself trembling, suddenly feeling very grateful for the straight jacket and Ron's presence.

"Get. Her. Out of here."

"Speed, Trixie and Rex would like her to help you," Ron stated quietly. "They asked me to let her assist me."

"Get. Her. Out of here," Speed hissed, his expression becoming livid. "I. Don't. Want. To see her. I. Don't. Want. To see her. I. Don't. Want. Trixie's. Help. I. Don't. Want. Her. Here."

"Very well, Speed. You don't have to see her. Dr. Joyce, if you please . . ."

"Yes, Dr. Johnson," she murmured, quickly averting her gaze and turning away from Speed. Hurriedly, she headed for the door but not before Dr. Johnson handed her a piece of paper. Once outside, she read it.

Go into the observation room. Next door down. Page me once you're there.

Ron

Stacey frowned as she read it.

'Just what is he up to?'

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"It's okay, Speed," Ron soothed, approaching the troubled young man with the greatest of ease once he had Stacey's page. "She's gone. You can relax now."

"Don't. Want. To relax," Speed panted, now struggling against his straight jacket.

"You still need to relax. You'll give yourself a heart attack if you keep this up. You don't want to go to the hospital, do you?"

"No . . ." Speed blinked then leaned back. Some of the fire and anger left his eyes but not entirely. Ron knew that Speed was far too angry, far too hurt to ever let that fire go.

"Then take a deep breath and relax," the doctor stated, sitting on the foot of Speed's bed. He watched the former race champion with hooded eyes, knowing how Fate had mocked this poor boy by putting him on top of the world then sending him crashing down. But there was something different this time. There was recognition in Speed's eyes when he looked at him.

'Strange. He's normally not this lucid when we take him off his medications like this. Why is this time different? Is he fighting to regain control?'

"Why. Am I. Off my meds? I. Don't. Want. To be. Off. My. Meds."

"We normally take you off your medications around this time of year and put you under hypnosis," he explained gently. "It is how we normally determine the next course of action for you."

"I. Don't. Remember. Any. Of. That."

"You wouldn't," Ron murmured. "It's just a temporary course of action. That way you get the best care. And you can also decide what it is that you want to do."

"Like. Staying. Here. And. On my. Medications."

"Yes," Ron affirmed. "Like staying here and on your medications."

"That. Lady. Who. Was. She?"

"Dr. Stacey Joyce."

"They. Tried. To replace. You. Again. Didn't. They?"

"They did. Right now, Dr. Joyce is technically your doctor."

"I. Don't. Want. Her. As my. Doctor. You're. My. Doctor."

"Give her a chance, Speed. She might just be able to get through to Trixie and Rex."

"No. Don't. Want. Her. As my. Doctor."

"Speed . . . Would you like to go back to the outside world?" Ron licked his lower lip in apprehension. He was taking a risk, he knew, but, if Stacey Joyce could pull it off, then Speed would no longer need to be here. "Wouldn't you like to go outside and not have to worry about orderlies following you around? Be free from this place?"

"No. Not. If I. Have to. Remember. Don't. Want. To remember." He let out a choked whimper.

"I know," Ron soothed. "You don't want to remember. And I don't blame you for not wanting to remember. However, with Dr. Joyce, you might just have a chance to go back to living a normal life _without_ those memories, Speed. Wouldn't you like that?"

"She. Can. Make. That. Happen?"

"She has told me she was going to try," Ron assured him. "She's been keeping me informed of her discussions with Trixie and Rex, and, from the sounds of it, they're starting to accept the possibility of either hypno-therapy or electro-shock therapy. Whichever it is you want to choose, Speed."

"Will. I. Still. Have. To go. Under. Hypnosis?"

"I would like for you to. And it's the only way the hospital will agree to whatever you ask for when it comes to treatment. Do you understand me?"

"Yes. I. Understand."

"Good," Ron smiled. "Now how are you feeling otherwise?"

"Tired. Ache. All. Over."

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"Rex, I think we should talk."

"About what, dear?"

"About Speed's treatment . . . I'm not sure I want to do this anymore."


	5. Chapter 5

"You can't do this!"

Trixie folded her arms, her gaze cool as the blonde-haired woman across from her seethed.

"I'm afraid that I am, Dr. Joyce. I'm not comfortable with putting Speed through these options. There aren't any guarantees that either of the treatments will work. I can't allow it. There has to be something else we can try."

"We've gone over this once before, Mrs. Racer. There _isn't_ anything else to try. It's either one of these treatments or Speed stays here. And, I'm sorry to say, Speed _wants_ to do this. He doesn't want to remember."

"I don't accept that," the brunette shot back, losing some control over her composure. "There _has_ to be another way so find it."

"Fine. I will. But I will remind you that you are over-stepping your limits in your efforts to help Speed. You are _not_ his guardian and you do _not_ make the decisions regarding his care. _He_ does. You're doing more harm than good. But if another way is what you want, that is what you'll get. However, I guarantee you, Mrs. Racer, that you won't like it."

"Are you threatening me?" Trixie challenged.

"No. I'm challenging your authority. You asked me to help Speed and that's what I'm going to do. Good day, Mrs. Racer."

Before Trixie could say anything more, Dr. Joyce whirled around and stormed out of the conference room.

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"Go away."

Thud.

"Go away."

Thud.

"Go away."

Thud.

"Go away."

Thud.

Rex could only watch in helplessness as his younger brother repeatedly hit his head against the wall. Why Speed did that, Rex couldn't say. As usual, the straight jacket had been put on, his brother's arms held tight against his body, and the orderlies kept a safe distance from the mentally ill man. They had refused to answer him when Rex had inquired about his brother's behaviour, merely shrugging, as if he should know the answer already. Tentatively, he reached out to the dark-haired man.

"Speed?" he inquired gently.

"Go away." Thud.

"Speed . . ."

"Go away." Thud.

It took a few more attempts but finally Rex got his brother to look at him. He smiled a little when he saw clear, blue eyes staring at him.

"How are you feeling?" Rex ventured, in the hopes that his brother would finally talk to him again.

"I'm. Fine," came the reply. "What . . . do you want?"

"To take you home, Speed, and as soon as possible. Trixie's talking to Dr. Joyce right now about finding a new treatment for you so you can . . ."

Speed's eyes flashed at those words then he snarled, springing forward as if to attack him. Rex nearly fell backwards as the orderlies dashed forward, grabbing a hold of his brother and restraining him.

"STOP INTERFERING IN MY LIFE!" he screamed, his cheeks bright red. "YOU AND TRIXIE NEVER QUIT! YOU DON'T GET IT, DO YOU! I DON'T WANT YOUR HELP! I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP! LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE, YOU FUCKING BASTARD! YOU DON'T FUCKING QUIT! I KEEP SAYING I WANT DR. JOHNSON TO TREAT ME, THAT I DON'T WANT TO FUCKING REMEMBER BUT YOU NEVER LISTEN! DAMMIT, YOU NEVER LISTEN! I DON'T WANT TO REMEMBER!"

Rex blinked at the onslaught, his brother's voice shrinking down to a choked whimper. That had been the first time in six years his brother had spoken to directly to him, but it hadn't gone as he had envisioned it. The orderlies half-led, half-dragged Speed from the recreational room.

"Must be the medications," he breathed, clenching his hands to keep from shaking. "Has to be the medications. He would have never said that otherwise."

"More like the lack of medications, Mr. Racer," a calm voice stated. "He's been surprisingly lucid since we've started to wean him from his medications. The withdrawal, though, is getting worse each time. He can't keep this up for much longer. Eventually, it's going to kill him."

His eyes narrowed as he raised his head to see the somber and pensive expression of Dr. Johnson. The chestnut-haired man sat next to him, and he suppressed a sigh of annoyance. He didn't want to see just how badly Speed's words had affected him. Instead, he did the only thing he could think of.

"You're not Speed's doctor anymore," he growled. "You have no right to be deciding anything."

"And you have no right interfering with his wishes," came the simple reply, "as you were informed by Dr. Joyce. She was right when she told you I've been humouring you and your wife all these years. I can take over his treatment at any time and there's nothing you can do about it."

"Why you . . ."

"I'm not here to argue with you. In fact, I'm done arguing with you and your wife. I'm just here to state the facts to you. Speed can _not_ keep living like this. Twice a year we wean him off of his medications to put him under hypnosis to find out what courses of action _he_ wants to take. Twice a year you, your wife, and your parents witness this. And twice a year the withdrawal from his medications gets worse. But you and Mrs. Racer don't see that. You've conveniently forgotten how violent he was _before_ he came here, before we got him on the right medications and dosages. You come at the most opportune of times to miss the worst of the withdrawal pains. Or you don't come at all. You're never here to calm him down or to speak comfort to him. Quite honestly, Mr. Racer, I'm getting tired of this dance. I'm tired of watching him suffer and torment himself over something he had no control over."

"You've done nothing to help him," Rex spat, trying to keep his verbal lashings going. He hated the fact that the doctor had a point. "You're the reason why he's so addicted to those damn drugs."

"And I'm tired of arguing with you and your wife," Dr. Johnson sighed, rising to his feet. "It's going to end. I can't keep putting him through this simply because you want one thing for him and he wants the opposite. I'm sorry, Mr. Racer, but you and your wife lose this time. If Speed doesn't want to remember then he doesn't have to. It is by his choice that he's here to begin with. It's now up to him as to whether or not he wants to leave."

"I don't buy that," Rex murmured weakly, the full truth of the doctor's words sinking in. He wanted to help his brother. More than anything else in the world. And Trixie knew his brother, knew Speed better than what he did. He didn't want to think that she could be wrong on something like this. "He needs to remember . . . so he can cope."

"He wasn't allowed to cope after it happened, Mr. Racer. Your wife made sure of that by demanding that they get married. Just so he could prove his love for her . . . What makes you think he's going to want to start coping now?"

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_"Shhh, it's okay, Speed. It's okay." Fingers brushed lightly against his temple as he cried into her lap. _

"Mother, I'm scared . . . I don't know what to do anymore . . . I . . . I can't do this . . . I can't face anyone . . . Not after what happened . . . How am I going to get through this?" he sobbed.

"I don't know, baby. I can't answer that. I wish I could but I'm afraid it's something that you'll have to answer yourself. You're the only one who knows your own strength . . . but don't worry. I'll always be here with you. You can always cry on my shoulder. Always."

"Promise?"

"I promise. You're my baby."

"I tried, Mother," he whispered into the empty room. "I really did. I never wanted to hurt you. I love you too much for that. But I did. I kept on hurting you . . . and it hurt to be near you . . . God, I didn't want to feel that way . . . but I did. I love you so much, Mother . . . I want to come home. I really do."

She had never told him how much it had pained her to see him suffering like that, how the pain made her feel helpless against the nightmares and the torment. She had never said it, but he knew. Speed had seen it in his mother's eyes every time he had cried and made himself sick over what had happened. She had been a saint, trying to keep him sane enough to cope, but, in the end, she could only do so much.

"I'm so sorry, Mother," he whispered, gazing at the ceiling. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry. I've failed you. I've failed Pops . . . I've failed myself. No one will let me be. They don't understand . . . I don't want to remember . . . I don't want to remember at all . . . because . . . because if I don't . . . I'll be able to look at you again and feel happy . . . and not the burning rage or hatred . . . I don't want to feel those anymore. Please, Mother . . . help me. Help me get through this. Please. You're the only woman who matters to me anymore. Help them see that. Please."


	6. Chapter 6

"Speed? Are you going to be all right?" Dr. Johnson inquired as he stepped into the room. Speed glanced at him, the tears having long since left him.

"I'm fine," he whispered. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine. You've been crying," the doctor pointed out. "What's troubling you?"

"Everything," Speed croaked out. "Why do they do this to me? Every year it's the same old thing. Don't do this, don't do that, please do this . . . Don't they care? Don't my feelings count? I can't live like this. They know that! Why do they do this!"

"They do care, Speed. They care just a little too much so they get overzealous in trying to help you," the older man stated.

"They're taking the life right out of me, though," he whispered. "I can't do this . . . I can't . . . I can't . . . not anymore . . ."

"Shhh . . . it's all right, Speed . . . Dr. Joyce and I have contacted your parents about this. If you'd like, we can inform them of what's been going on . . . and you can talk with them."

"What good would it do?" Speed mumbled miserably. "They haven't stopped Rex and Trixie over the last six years. Why would they start now?"

"Because they love you. They want you to be able to go home, too."

"They don't love me . . ."

"We've been over this before, Speed," Dr. Johnson stated firmly. "Your parents do so love you. They're doing the best that they can with the resources available to them. If you really wish for Rex and Trixie to stop, you're going to have to name your parents as your legal guardians and leave your care up to them."

"I know . . . I just . . . I just don't think it would stop them from interfering."

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From the other side of the glass, Stacey Joyce let out a sigh then scribbled down another thing for her notes. Ron Johnson had not been kidding when he'd told her that the situation with Rex and Trixie was ongoing. Their desire to help only hindered the healing process for the former race car champion. She then glanced at the couple who sat in the room with her.

"As you can see, Mr. and Mrs. Racer, Speed's condition is on a very serious decline," she stated. "Your son and daughter-in-law's wishes have been conflicting with his for many years now. They do not see or do not wish to see how badly this is traumatizing him. Do they know why he doesn't want to remember those events from six years ago?"

"No," Mrs. Racer shook her head as she dabbed at her eyes. "They just know he doesn't want to remember those events, but they've never bothered to find out why."

"We kept hoping that they were right," Pops Racer murmured. "That, if every option was exploited, that Speed would be able to come home and not have to deal with a major memory loss."

"So you let them continue this cycle of abuse towards him? Because that's what it is, Mr. and Mrs. Racer. Abuse."

"Yes . . ."

Stacey tilted her head as she gazed at the couple.

"Why doesn't Speed want to remember what happened?" she inquired. "Did you ever find out?"

"No," Pops shook his head but his wife nodded.

"Yes. I did. I found out why."

"Why, Mrs. Racer? Why doesn't he want to remember?"

"Because of me. He doesn't want to remember what happened because of me."


	7. Chapter 7

They were taking no chances with him. Not that he could blame them. He'd always been a rather strong guy, able to take down several men in survival situations. And since he'd lost his mind (which he knew that he'd done -- why else would he be in an asylum?), he was even more of a threat. He could lash out at any given moment, especially after they'd reduced his medications down to nothing. That's why the female nurses glanced with nervous expressions at him. That's why the male orderlies had put him in the straightjacket. He was dangerous.

In a some, small perverted way, Speed relished the fear that he was inspiring in those who cared for him. He'd always been seen as a good boy, the guy a father wouldn't hesitate to let his daughter go out on a date with, and he'd been proud of that fact.

All that had changed, though. In a single night, his life had been ripped, torn, shredded . . . destroyed. Because the girls next door had wanted him. Because the girls next door would do anything to get him.

He still felt their hands on him. He still could recall Trixie's demand that he prove his love for her after the fact and how terrified he'd been their wedding night . . .

Speed blinked and the room came into focus. Across from him sat Dr. Johnson and Dr. Joyce. Behind them was a dark glass wall. He couldn't see what lay beyond that other wall but knew that whoever was behind it could see, and hear, him.

"Are you ready, Speed?" Dr. Johnson inquired. Speed knew what was required of him. He had to answer their questions. He had to answer them honestly. He had to tell them what he wanted.

'Not that it'll do any good . . . Rex and Trixie want me to remember. I don't want to remember. They control everything. They control my life.'

Knowing that didn't make him as comfortable as one might have thought. He resented Rex and Trixie and their meddling with his life. He resented Trixie for how she reacted to his rape. He resented Rex for marrying her after their marriage had been annulled . . . he resented them for going on about their lives as if nothing had ever happened when he knew differently. He resented them for not having suffered what he had suffered. Speed wanted a sense of normalcy, _needed_ it the way he needed water.

At Dr. Johnson's question, he nodded.

"Yes. I'm ready."

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Trixie listened as each doctor asked Speed a series of questions and as he answered. Next to her stood Rex and Mr. and Mrs. Racer. On occasion, she'd glance at her spouse and her in-laws and wondered. She wondered if Speed's answers sounded like they were rehearsed to Mom and Pops as they did to her. Trixie wanted nothing more than to have this session end and for Speed to be released from the hospital but knew that it wouldn't be likely. Speed had never signed over guardianship to anyone. Legally, she and Rex couldn't stop whatever treatment Speed wanted, even if they disagreed with it.

She let out a sigh as the session continued, Speed answering with either a 'yes' or 'no'. They went through the same thing year after year. This time, however, she had a very bad feeling that Speed would have some of his memories erased . . . and things would never be the same again.


	8. Chapter 8

"How is he, Dr. Johnson?"

The dark-haired man raised his head to meet the concerned expressions of the parents of Speed Racer and fought back the urge to sigh. As usual, they were concerned, they were hopeful . . . and they were probably going to agree with their son and daughter-in-law. Speed wouldn't be able to receive the treatment he desired once more.

"He's doing fine, Mrs. Racer," he replied, combing his fingers through his hair. "Speed's resting comfortably right now."

"Good," she nodded. "It gives us a chance to talk . . . treatment options."

"It does," he agreed, idly going over medication dosages. "What have you and your husband decided?"

They glanced at each other and nodded, a silent message passing between them. Then the Racer matriarch looked at him.

"We want our son to come home, Dr. Johnson. Proceed with the hypno-therapy."


	9. Chapter 9

Speed let out a soft moan. His head pounded and his mouth felt like it'd been stuffed with cotton. He felt strange . . . light for some reason. Like he no longer had a care in the world. He wondered why that was then wondered why he was wondering before dismissing the notion. Letting out another soft moan, he opened his eyes and immediately winced.

He was in a strange room. It had dingy grey walls and a dank, foul smell. Crinkling his nose, he slowly pushed himself up and glanced around, noting that the only bed it had was the one he was laying upon . . .

'Where am I? Why am I here?' he wondered, wincing as the throbbing in his head intensified.

"Good morning, Speed," a male voice murmured. "How are you feeling?"

Speed blinked, his eyes still out of focus. Then a man with dark hair came into view, his expression filled with a bit of concern and some curiosity.

"I'm fine," he finally managed to rasp out. "Head hurts, though . . ."

"I can imagine," came the reply. "Here. I have some mild painkillers. Other than the pain in your head, how are you feeling?"

He paused for a moment. How _was_ he feeling? He felt exhausted . . . but he didn't want to sleep, either. Then there was his confusion. Why was he in a place like this? He didn't understand. Otherwise, he felt fine . . . he hoped.

"Okay, I guess . . . a bit tired . . . why am I here?"

"You're recovering from an illness," the man stated as he began to take Speed's pulse. "You've been here for a couple of years . . . for a moment, we weren't sure if you were going to recover at all."

"What happened? How did I get so sick?"

"You were in an accident, Speed," Dr. Johnson replied. "A very serious one. Some of your injuries became infected and the infections spread throughout your body, affecting parts of your neurological system. You're very lucky to be alive."

Speed frowned. Parts of the doctor's story didn't add up to him. He didn't remember being in an accident of any kind. Then again . . . he didn't remember much of anything after the night of his mother's birthday party. Was that when he'd been in that accident? And was this memory loss normal?

"Oh . . . I see . . . Will I be able to go home soon?"

"Oh yes," the man replied with a vigorous nod. "You will. You'll need some medications to cope with some of the pain and nausea and some physical therapy, but you should be fine within a few days. Do you have any questions for me before I let your parents in?"

"Yeah," Speed murmured. "How come I don't remember being in an accident or being sick for all this time? And is it normal?"

"Yes," Dr. Johnson answered. "It is normal for you to have suffered some memory. I'm afraid, however, that it could very well be permanent. As for how it happened . . . as I said, the infections affected parts of your neurological system. How badly, we weren't sure . . . not until you woke up."

"Oh . . ."

"Hey . . ." The doctor moved towards him and sat on the side of the bed, a warm smile on his face. "Be thankful that it's just memory loss and not the loss of your mobility. Okay?"

"Yeah," Speed managed to smile. "At least there's that."

"Yes. There's always that. Now chin up. Your parents are here to see you and were quite happy to hear of your recovery. I must warn you, though. A few things have changed while you've been sleeping."


End file.
